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Class 



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Copyright N° 


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A ROMANCE 
IN MEDITATION 


BY / 

ELAINE L. FIELD 



THE 


Hbbey press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

Xonfcon NEW YORK Montreal 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Cowes Recoved 

APR. 13 1901 


Copyright entry 



COPY 3. 



X 


Copyright, 1901, 
by 
THE 

Bb bzy press 


TO ' 


THE ONE WHO INSPIRED IT, 
I DEDICATE 


THIS “MEDITATION,” 




>> 


KNOW THYSELF. 






















































4 







































































































AUTHOR’S NOTE. 


A sequel far different than this I had dreamed, 

But then in this life things will go amiss ; 

Our portion allotted is often best deemed 
Some bane for a blessing — some anguish for bliss. 



CONTENTS 


The Isle of Lost Dreams, 

A Letter from “The Unknown.” 
As in a Dream — Prophetic ? 

The Tints are all Gray Tq-day. 
Off for Roaring Brook now. 

I am Shadowed by an Enigma. 
Through the Track of the Moon. 
Twixt the Hinges of Time. 

You Came Into my Life too Late. 
Telepathy. 

A Parenthesis in my Life. 
Moonlight from Forest Knob. 

“ Certain Thoughts are Prayers.” 


Finale. 


PERSONS 


Jean Nevill£ (veel) 
Adele Andre 
Verone Knox (Vere) 
Clare Andre 
Addice Robins 
Richard Armstrong 


Harold Mortimer 
R. S. Lech£ 
Berenice Moore 
Beulah Herric 
Emily Stuart 
Ronald Hughes. 







































A ROMANCE IN MEDITATION 


“ THE ISLE OF LOST DREAMS.” 

“ There is an isle beyond our ken 

Haunted by dreams of weary men, 
Gray Hopes enshadow it with wings 
Weary with burdens of old things ; 
There the insatiate watersprings 
Rise with the tears of all who weep ; 
And deep within it — deep, oh, deep — 
The furtive voice of Sorrow sings ; 
There evermore, 

Till Time be o’er, 

Sad, oh, so sad, the Dreams of men 

Drift through the Isle beyond our ken.” 

Ill 


12 


A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION I. 

Well, the summer is over and I must soon 
settle down to the routine of daily life. 
Good-by to the hook and line, the pliant oar, 
the graceful white-winged boat and the lake 
breezes. Delightful in many respects it has 
been, and flitted oh, so quickly. Wonder how 
it has passed to the stay-at-homes ? 

Ah! a gracious bow! He looks well, but 
not so sunburnt as the faces Eve been wont to 
look upon for the last few weeks. A little 
pallor bespeaks his confinement in a sultry city 
— that’s all. I fear he sacrifices himself too 
much to his calling. 

He said it was so far I was going. Now he 
knows I’m at home, wonder when he’ll call. 
Believe I’ll get out of the car and go home. 
Provoking, should he come to-night, but I 
promised to spend it with Clare, and suspect 
a lecture is all I’ll get for my pains. 


A Romance in Meditation. 13 

True, I did not say in my last letter when 
I would reach home, but my smile of welcome 
must answer in lieu of a note. 

Baton Rouge, 'August ip , i88pj ) 

My Unknown Friend, — 

Many long weeks have passed since I heard 
from you, and I doubt whether this will find 
you in L., as I presume you are sojourning in 
the mountains to escape the heat. 

Shall be very glad to have you write to me 
— your letters are a bright ray across a life that 
has still its shades. Forget the age and con- 
ceive me, an old young man, and talk accord- 
ingly. I should have written you sooner, but 
deemed it best not to hurry upon a lost inter- 
est. 

Though reluctant, must say adieu and seek 

sleep ; when but that 

pleasure does not seem destined for me. 

Adieu — 

Sincerely yours, 

JEAN NEVILLE.; 


14 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION II. 

Ha, ha ! Well, the lecture was no more than 
I anticipated from her, and I felt intuitively 
that he would come last night and I should 
miss him. ’Tis not long until Sunday, how- 
ever, and he may drop in before. 

In my haste to fulfill my promise to her, I 
overlooked my mail — let’s see — a letter from 
the “ Unknown,” I declare. Queer fellow, 
he is to have scratched out those lines ; perhaps 
he thinks to pique my curiosity. Yes, it has 
been weeks — nay, months, — since I wrote to 
him; but he seems to find some pleasure in 
them. I believe Beulah said he was ill a 
good deal, and I suppose lives rather a se- 
cluded life : so he says my letters are “ a bright 
ray.” His are certainly original and very 
unique. 

Think I destroyed his former ones before 
leaving home. 


A Romance in Meditation. 15 
Baton Rouge, October 25, i88p. 

To Miss Adele, — 

So you’ve returned from the lakes — not the 
mountains. I see by to-day’s paper that Mr. 
R. S. Leche has just returned from Chatauqua. 
He is an acquaintance of mine; did you meet 
him ? But he was a married man. 

Ah! your quotation from Ben Hur — I be- 
lieve you had it right though I have not my 
copy here to refer to. “ The stillness was 
more than silence — ’twas a holy hush — a 
warning that Heaven is bending low, to whis- 
per some good thing to the listening earth.” 
By the way, what a glorious novel it is. 

Beware of moonlit boat-parties — there dan- 
ger lurks, and soft and gentle nothings soon 
grow to vivid, passionate phrases that sink 
deep, stir the blood, make a sleepless night 
and an uneasy pulse; come days of sweet an- 
ticipation and dreams of bliss that . . . . 

.. . . are not always realized. Pardon 

me, I am evidently astray. 

Your sweet courtesy prompted you to write 
your unknown friend just the prettiest letter 
before crushing him in the finale. 


16 A Romance in Meditation. 

'Adieu — when your leisure prompts, write 
to me — your letters are ever welcome to me 
, (though a widower). 

Yours, 

JEAN NEVILLE. 


A Romance in Meditation. 17 


MEDITATION III. 

To think of his caring for me whom he has 
known from childhood. Though so much my 
senior, he seems to find a pleasure in my so- 
ciety and even defers to my judgment. There 
is a certain timidity about him, but he gives 
me his confidence because he says he thinks I 
understand. It seems incongruous in one so 
strong and practical in most things; yet the 
strongest men must lean at times, they say, 
even, I suppose, upon a girl like me. 

Has it seemed so long a wait to him as he 
said? Yes he has been patient; but really, if 
he had pressed me for an answer before I left 
home, I’m sure I should have refused him. 
Ah, the many delightful times we have spent 
together; we seem to fit into the crevices of 
each other’s nature in a satisfying way some- 
how; and really, unconsciously, he has grown 
into my life more than I had dreamed. 

2 


18 A Romance in Meditation. 


It seemed to make him so happy when I gave 
my answer. Ah, what shall I tell him I want 
as the seal of our engagement — with it goes 
my life. This token shall be something es- 
pecially ours, Til design it. 

’Tis sweet to think of trusting to him — so 
brave, so strong, so true. Other men have 
never appealed to me and I have garnered up 
all my love to bestow on him who should come 
some day — and Fate has sent Verone — a 
beautiful name — his friends do not call him 
that, so I shall keep it all for my own. 

The token — let’s see — I do not want a dia- 
mond ring — too many have had that — it shall 
be something that the world cannot look upon. 
Ah, I have it — a necklace and a clasp with his 
name and mine and between them “ Mizpah,” 
and may it prove a good omen ; for somehow I 
fear they will try to make trouble. 


A Romance in Meditation. 19 


MEDITATION iv\ 

A glorious night ! The city lies wrapped in 
slumber under a mantle of snow. 

My first lover's kiss — how gentle, how deli- 
cate in his affection — ah, that kiss will linger 
long on my lips and brow. He claimed it as 
the seal of our betrothal when he clasped the 
chain around my neck. 

I suppose I ought to show my necklace to 
mother and Clare, but I can't yet; half the 
sacredness is gone when others see it. 

Sly way to get me to caress his hair. When 
he asked whether I did not want one of his 
curls and I replied that I had no scissors, he 
produced a pair — so I had to cut off a curl. 
Ha, ha ! well, I shall keep it. 

He says I have not learned love's lesson as 
well as he has. Ah, Verone, I shall not tell 
you how deeply, deeply, I have learned it — 
for with men they say that “ certainty is 


20 A Romance in Meditation. 


satiety ” — but, my darling, you are stealing 
deeper and deeper into my heart, I fear. How 
strange the repulsion that keeps us from some, 
and the affinity that draws us to others. When 
a man begins to wear coats and hats to suit you, 
you may safely say that he is a prey to the di- 
vine passion. 

How amazed he seemed when I rested my 
arm around his neck — “ Well, it’s about 
time ! ” Does he think me cold and indiffer- 
ent ? — ah, how little he knows me. 

Oh ! my darling, don't you know how I love 
you? Am I reserved? If you knew how 
they beset me with taunts and suspicions, you 
would clasp me in your strong arms and shield 
me from them — take me away. But I can't 
tell him; that would be to doubt him. He 
asked me whether I did not understand that it 
gave him as much happiness to know that I 
cared for him, and to have me show my love 
as it did me to feel that he loved me. 

Is what they say so? If true, I should lose 
my faith in my God. No, no, Verone A. 
Knox must be true or there is no God for me ! 
Is not our troth plighted on the “ Mizpah " ? 
Oh, Vere, Vere, Vere! 


A Romance in Meditation. 


21 


MEDITATION V. 

How still the night ! — 

“ Oh gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse, 

How have I frightened thee, 

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? ” 

How happy we were as we sat beside the 
lake. “ When friends sit silently hand in 
hand, nor mar with speech the sweet language 
of their eyes.” I could have sat there for 
hours and he felt the same way. It reminded 
me of the immensity of God's love — as if it 
could wrap us all in its embrace. Some peo- 
ple fear the water — to me, to drop into it 
would be like sinking to rest. 

If he only knew all the hurtful things they 
say to me, he surely would not let me stand it, 
and yet I cannot tell him; that would be to 
doubt him ; but oh, God, their insults are kill- 
ing me and I have done nothing to deserve 
them. 


22 A Romance in Meditation. 

What a ghastly face the mirror reveals ! I 
must not let them find me up at the window. 
For a few hours I must court sleep, for day 
is almost breaking. 

Ye shadows, that are hovering round the 
earth — are you waiting to rest upon some life? 
Such palls are surely not born of the day. 


A Romance in Meditation. 23 


MEDITATION VI. 

Four years of joy — a sort of exquisite mis- 
ery at times — and all is over! Have I done 
right? 

It could not go on. His sorrow is mine — 
locked in the inner cells of my heart — I can 
never tell them — will not. How they will nag, 
and the more they nag, the more iceberg I 
become. Let them ply chisel and hammer — 
the Sphinx never reveals her secrets. His 
child is his; ah, perish the thought that I 
should stand in her way. 

’Twas an ill omen that the chain should have 
broken — three times — ’tis too soft gold to 
stand the friction against the clothes. Glad 
I had a clasp made and put the other away lest 
I should lose it. I returned him the new chain 
and the clasp I had made, and kept the original 
ones. I told him I would never give up that, 
but, poor fellow, he does not know that I have 


24 A Romance in Meditation. 

the original clasp — maybe he thinks I gave 
up all and don't care — but no, he could not 
believe that. I'll keep the token until death's 
cold touch shall slip it from me. He said he 
would keep his and so we'll each have a 
“ Mizpah." 

Ye spirit artisans — come, — fashion a mask 
impervious to their darts. God help those who 
love yet are forced to wend their separate ways. 

Baton Rouge, November 7, 1893, 
My Fair Friend, — 

From the depths of my blankets I send you 
greeting — am just convalescent from a spell 
of pneumonia and feel woefully blue. Could- 
n't you write me a letter to cheer me up ? 

Yours, 

1 NEVILLE. 


A Romance in Meditation. 25 


MEDITATION VII. 

The “ Unknown ” again — and after such a 
lapse of time — why I had thought him trans- 
ported. Strange that he comes into my life 
in this way. When my heart bowed its alle- 
giance at another shrine, I felt it was only 
honorable to break off the correspondence and 
he had drifted out of my life entirely. 

That strange dream recurs to me — 

My boat crept on over the stream with its 
rocky walls, until it seemed that the cavern 
closed and I could not possibly get through. 
At times I had to propel it by pushing the 
oar against the sides of the cavern. 

How weary I felt with my struggle ! Then, 
as I was about to give up in despair, a way 
seemed to open for my boat to pass through, 
only to find myself in another rock-bound 
cavern with no outlet. Four, five successive 
caverns I pushed through, when, finally, I 


26 A Romance in Meditation. 

found myself out in a broad stream with a 
sweep of land and sky. 

On the shore stood a man and a little boy, 
both of refined and courteous mien. 

What a queer-looking house that was! 
Rather primitive looking, thatched with straw 
— some roughly hewn poles supporting the 
upper story — seemingly only one room, and 
the lower floor open to the sweep of wind and 
weather. 

A courtly greeting as I pushed my boat on 
shore, and a helping hand. When I seemed 
surprised at his remark that I had come so far 
and must be very tired, he replied, “ I know 
you have come from up stream, and this is 
the first stopping place; it is a long journey.” 

Upon inquiry as to where I could find lodg- 
ing for the night, the beautiful boy offered to 
resign their room to me — they would sleep in 
the loft, he said. 

Genuine southern hospitality! A strange, 
strange dream ! Prophetic ? 

Baton Rouge, March 15 , 1894. 
To Miss Adele, — 

Home again after a long day during which 


A Romance in Meditation. 27 

time my thoughts have often turned to you — 
which it is becoming common for them to do 
now. I seem to seek you as companion; for 
in many things I look to you as confidant and 
sharer of my joys and sorrows. You are be- 
ginning to absorb my mind to the exclusion of 
others and other things. Shall I say “ I love 
you ” ? — yet not know you. 

When the time is ripe for me to meet you, I 
shall take your hand, and, looking into those 
searching eyes of yours, down deep into their 
blue depths, say, “ Adele, you have conquered 
me — my affection goes to you— I love you ” — 
but then comes a poser — can you love me ? 

I seek your interest and would have you 
grow fond of me, and would jealously guard 
any of your confidence just as I would ex- 
clude others from contact with the woman I 
loved — do you understand me? 

? Tis true, indeed — “ Oh, woman, repression 
is thy part ” — so to quote you now, Miss 
Adele, now that you know that the man loves 
you, that he holds back nothing from you, lift 
the veil of repression (if only a little way) 
and be willing to advance some distance to the 
man who has cherished his affection, and who 


28 A Romance in Meditation. 

is too sensitive and highstrung ever to have 
given it to the many; so, if you meditate its 
refusal, do it quickly and have it over. 

Good-night. This is the longest letter I 
have ever written — fear I tire you badly — 
write to me, Adele, and believe me, I am 
already deeply attached to you. 

Yours, 

JEAN NEVILLE. 


A Romance in Meditation. 29 


MEDITATION VIIL 

How beautiful the bay is! 

From the terraced heights, some of the force 
of the waves is lost upon the ear, and yet to the 
eye, the picture is enhanced; for from this 
elevation all the varying colors are seen, from 
the light gray-green as it breaks upon the 
shore, the blue-green further out, until we see 
the broad expanse of azure, as if God's smile 
above had kindled the beautiful tints. 

We sometimes see this in one whose eyes 
have been shrouded by mental clouds until 
only the somber gray tints are seen. Let love's 
glance beam into them, and lo ! what a change. 
The clouds lift, the gray tints are dissipated, 
and he who is fortunate enough to kindle it, 
basks in an azure sky. 

He seeks my love; ah, strange it seems that 
he should care for one he has not seen. His 
is a beautiful nature. More tender affection 


30 A Romance in Meditation. 

for a woman and more deference to the little 
cravings of her nature, I have never known; 
and, yet, Jean, the tints are all gray to-day, I 
fear ; the kindling power is far, far away. 

Til stroll down to the bay; I'm always 
nearer Verone when I hear the voice of the 
waves; and yet it is like gathering dead-sea 
fruit. 

Baton Rouge, June 29, 1894 • 
Adele — Fair One, — 

Shall take up the thread of your letter by the 
dates and the following piece of fate speaks 
for itself and shows why I did not write to 
Adele last night. Yours of Wednesday rec’d, 
and found in it quite a little comment on 
Berenice — came home on time to dinner, heard 
voices in mother's room — opened the door and 
stood face to face with Berenice — she looked 
handsome. 

She remained to dinner and I escorted her 
home about 8 o'clock. What impressed me 
as peculiar was that I had just finished reading 
of her in your letter and then to come face to 
face with her — first meeting in a year. After 
leaving her, went to my store for office-work, 


A Romance in Meditation. 31 

thence to my club, finally home — too late to 
write. 

I plead guilty, for I should have subdued the 
bitterness that arose in me. You have at all 
times showed such good judgment, that it 
should have saved me from the rash lines I 
wrote; for I, too, realize that we must first 
meet. 

To-day I have been filled with remorse — 
your second letter coming straight from your 
heart, showing your woman's true nature, re- 
veals you more than ever to me, and causes me 
to feel that to aspire to love you would be pos- 
sessing the heart of a pure, confiding, perfect 
woman. 

Ha! ha! yes, the widow has a pretty name, 
but I am glad you are not a widow — you know 
I want to love you, if you'll let me — and I 
want no widows. 

Adieu for this time, 

JEAN NEVILLE. 


32 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION IX. 

Another breath from the Southland — I’ll 
take the letter with me and read it at first stop. 
A glorious row that! The waves were buoy- 
ant and oh, such whitecaps. Here I am 
amongst the pines on the other side — the cot- 
tages on the terraces of Bay View are not dis- 
cernible — one great knob, it seems. 

Guess I’ll read my letter before I begin my 
tramp. Ha, ha! so he won't have the widow 
or Berenice either. A beautiful name — and 
southern girls are reputed to be very charming, 
very fascinating. What he wants with an ice- 
berg like me I can't imagine — and yet it was 
best to tell him that ; he must not write me so. 

In the confines of my pocket you shall re- 
pose to await a later perusal. 

Off for Roaring Brook now ! 

Monarchs of the forest — what giant pines! 
Ours seem as saplings beside them. Their 


A Romance in Meditation. 33 

great trunks lie, resting their lateral branches 
on the ground, as if the storm of a victorious 
army had passed over, leaving the slain piled 
one upon another, some buried in the trenches, 
others resting upon higher ground. 

Here a tiny brooklet winds its way, and, in 
its mossy bed, offers a cool retreat for the 
woodland sprites, that may stop to quench their 
thirst. 

On, on it goes, now under a fallen log, now 
over some rugged bed, tossing bits of moss and 
fern, gathering strength as it goes until it 
rushes as a waterfall and loses its roar in the 
heavier tones of the bay. 

How far I’ve wandered ; I must hasten back 
to my boat to cross before dark. 

Baton Rouge, July 11 , 1894. 
To the Incorrigible,— 

After an hour’s nap, feel better as it were. 
Oh, you rascal, how shall I forgive you, or you 
overlook my stupidity? I had forgotten that 
some “ Belles ” have a tinkle — never mind, 
little woman, I’ll be even with you. 

Adele, why not, when the thoughts come, 
put them on paper? You know that you hold 
3 


34 A Romance in Meditation. 

back so much from me that you have nearly 
altered the manner of my writing to you. Do 
you know that I have frequently sat here at 
night and written you from my heart (as if 
you loved me) only to put them into the fire 
the next morning, feeling that no response can 
ever come. 

I am shadowed by an enigma — the fascina- 
tion of which only waits a signal to dispel all 
doubts and fix a permanent affection. You, 
sweetheart, have drawn me to you and blindly 
I go (not knowing you), obedient to an unseen, 
subtle power that seems linking your destiny 
and mine. Why did you cry? 

Oh, if you could love me — but that is like 
your au revoir — and so, “ good-night, to my 
silence.” Should this pain you, be indulgent, 
forget it, and by your silence I shall know it 
was distasteful to you. 

Good-night, dear Adele, I shall give my 
thoughts to you, and at least think you will 
one day give me what I want — your love and 
trust — and yet — you never, never will. 

Yours, 


JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 35 


MEDITATION X. 

“ Why did you cry? ” 

Ye fountains of pent-up tears! tears that are 
driven back to sclald the heart — if released, 
could you answer for me? Bab would say — 
“ 'Tis woman's high privilege and great 
luxury" — only she defines the place where it is 
to be indulged in best — on a man's shoulder. 

Sentiment to the winds ! In life's struggle, 
a calm exterior is needed to battle against the 
world's selfishness. Its sympathy is but a 
cloak for its insatiate curiosity that seeks to 
wrap round your confidences that they may be 
passed on as a sweet morsel. 

Pardon, Jean; in thought I did not mean to 
hurl you out into the world's maelstrom, for 
you had entered the harbor of friendship. Be 
content with friendship, but do not ask my 
love, Jean, oh do not ask it. 

My vacation is almost over and soon I must 


36 A Romance in Meditation. 

go back to scenes that are too suggestive of 
“ departed joys ” — ah, well. 

Baton Rouge, August p, i8p4. 
Adele, Sweetheart, — 

Your very welcome and certainly very beau- 
tiful letter of Sat. rec’d — have perused it care- 
fully and marked several passages on which 
my thoughts will linger for many days to 
come. One sentence in particular has caused 
me suddenly to awaken to a possibility — in 
fact, probability — that in my blindness I had 
overlooked. 

Another day gone — still nearer. 

Well, after all, you are right — give me no 
false encouragement and my “ eyes will never 
reproach you ” for not being able to care for 
me. From to-night I shall not permit myself 
even to dream of what I had wished for; but 
shall simply take my chances, and, when the 
time comes, shall steel myself into my old-time 
hopelessness. I shall take your advice and, 
lest a woeful mistake be made, trust the future 
of our friendship to a wiser power. 

The sadness of my favorite poem — “Lucile” 
—pervades me to-night, and, ah, well, never 


A Romance in Meditation. 37 

mind — it suggests much that covers me — then 
too — 

Good-night — may Heaven keep you. 

Yours, 


■JEAN. 


38 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION XI. 

The lights from the opposite shore, ah, how 
like fairyland. The cottagers have put out 
their brightest beacons. The lighthouse sends 
its beams far across the bay, and the Point is 
easily discerned. Life here is almost a dream 
— surely this would somewhat allay life’s 
troubles and disappointments to live in such an 
environment. I wish I could bring from their 
inland homes some of the poor who never get 
a glimpse of any such grandeur and let them 
feast eye and ear and rest their nerves on 
the quiet music of waters. 

The hour’s wait has lengthened into five, 
and still no Manitou. The travelers are weary 
and find a knapsack an acceptable pillow. 
There’s a hoarse cry — the steamer cannot be 
far off — what is that black thing pointing 
above the trees ? There she comes, every port- 
hole aglow — how majestically she moves and 


A Romance in Meditation. 39 

rounds the Point, with hardly a sound — safe 
into the harbor. All aboard ! 

No, no! I could not go below yet. I feel 
as if I should never want to sleep while lasts a 
glory like this. Ah, we are ploughing through 
the track of the moon. I wonder will its kindly 
light lead me through the coming months, or 
shall I simply cross its path to be lost again in 
the encircling, overshadowing gloom? 

With no earthly father on whom to lean, 
may the Heavenly extend a protecting hand to 
guide me. 

Adieu to the glorious night — I’ve watched it 
out. Addice R. has been catching up in 
beauty sleep these many hours, and I, too, 
must hie me away to slumber. 

Baton Rouge, Sept . 1 5, 1894. 

Miss A., — 

Tore this scrap from your letter — are you 
well? — ’tis true I do not care for you — still I 
wish you to care for your own health. 

Yet, how charmed I would be with a loving 
wife, to whom would go my inmost confi- 
dences — not to you, Miss, for you don’t love 
me; therefore I shall not love you. 


40 A Romance in Meditation. 

Had I been near you last night, should have 
taken you in my arms, gently bent back your 
brow, and fixed my lips to yours in a long, 
sweet, dreamy kiss — adieu, Badness — since 
you won’t love me — then love somebody else. 

Not your 

JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation, 41 


MEDITATION XIL, 

Saucy fellow to write me a note like this. 
He thinks me remiss in not having answered 
his letter. True, I haven’t written since my 
return from the lakes. I shall have to put a 
quietus upon him. 

“ Then love somebody else.” Nay, nay, 
Jean, I fear me much the self which could have 
been inspired with the divine passion was 
buried long since neath a crust so frozen that 
it is impervious to ardor even like yours ; and 
there are few more ardent wooers, or richer 
natures. 

And yet, had he come into my life before 
that other influence which left its shadow rest- 
ing o’er me, I might have responded to his 
nature; but the glacial touch of my being 
would freeze his warm impulses. No, no, he 
needs the sunshine of an unblighted love. 
Could I shake off the shadow and let the 


42 


A Romance in Meditation. 


warmth of his love penetrate and bring to the 
surface something of my old self — but what 
folly ! 

How like a finely stringed instrument he is, 
responding to the slightest touch ; buoyant 
with some cherished hope or sign of apprecia- 
tion ; swayed by tender sympathy ; again gently 
rebuking a fancied slight; now wrung with 
pain of disappointment; again rising in a 
strain of renewed purpose; breathing oftenest 
a motif of reverential love — a willing tribute 
to woman. 

An Aeolian harp. Happy the lady in whose 
bower it may rest. 

Baton Rouge, Oct . lr5, i 8 pj . 

Adele, — 

We and I have studied your picture care- 
fully. You have well written beneath your 
picture “ Meditation ” — your face shows 
thought and, withal, your sweet countenance 
has a somewhat sad and far-off look — such a 
look as will creep into the eyes of one whose 
vision would leave the surroundings of life 
“ ordinaire ” and seek to penetrate the mys- 
terious beyond — your are a deep thinker. 


A Romance in Meditation. 43 

Write to me and give me some glimpse of the 
tenderness that lies beneath the surface of those 
eyes. I feel that there is some hidden link that 
binds us, and your sad face makes my heart go 
out to you with a feeling of tenderness hard to 
explain — yet so — you draw me to you, and I 
do not nor can resist it — nor do I wish to. 

Do I tire you? Well, I shall talk to you 
now of others and other things. I must curb 
my tongue until I hear from you — for like the 
Arab of old, “ My tongue must lie a prisoner 
twixt its walls and be silent/' I am lonely and 
depressed. 

On my pillow will give you different 
thoughts from these — and against your bid- 
ding, loose myself in sweet anticipation. 

I kiss your hand — farewell ! 

JEAN. 

Baton Rouge,, Oct . 25, 1894. 
To my Imaginary Sweetheart, — 

You tease, rec'd your note of Tues. — sure 
enough I did forget — never mind, Miss Bad- 
ness, since you will have none of it, I suppose 
I'll just bestow my lovely affection on the 


44 A Romance in Meditation. 


widow. Some day, you “ imp,” I shall tease 
you. 

From the number of epistles, one would sup- 
pose I’m in love with you — but I'm not. I 
only thought I was. I built some bubbles and 
you stuck a pin in them, thus evaporating the 
sentiment. 

Have thought of you many times to-day 
(didn’t mean to tell you this, however, it just 
slipped out). Well, I thought nothing kind 
about you, anyhow — I keep all such for my 
real sweetheart. 

Good-by, Adele. 

Yours till cremation, 


JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 45 


MEDITATION XIII. 

The full glory of autumn is upon us. I have 
never seen the foliage more beautiful, a perfect 
panorama of color. Had I seen this picture on 
canvas, even in the school of “ Impression- 
ists, ’’ I should have thought it overdone. 

The slanting rays of the sun shimmer down 
through the tree-tops, bringing out every con- 
ceivable tint. Each turn of the drive re- 
veals some added beauty of curve and lends 
a new light to the picture. This right- 
fully lays claim to being one of the prettiest 
pieces of landscape gardening in the country. 
The park is resplendent with glory. 

The air is pregnant with the odor of new- 
mown grass. 

How few of us live with nature enough to 
know her. 

Rest we here awhile, my steed; you may 
nibble a few bits while I dream on. Had I 


46 A Romance in Meditation. 

time, I would drive across to the lane from 
which memories seem crowding upon me. 

The curtain scene was surely taken from 
that lane. My escort must have thought me 
distrait the other evening ; for despite the 
charms of the actress, I kept lapsing into 
dreams. 

I could so easily people it with the familiar 
forms. The “ trio ” have spent some happy 
hours in its sylvan shade. “ Broec ” is almost 
human, and he certainly was a party to the 
courtship. Dear old fellow — the last time I 
passed him, he whinnied as I neared him and 
turned in surprise when I did not stop to give 
the accustomed pat. He does not know that 
I longed to throw my arms around him. . 

So much for conventionalities ! Imagine 
Adele Andre stopping in her proud walk to 
throw her arms around a horse friend. 

Baton Rouge, Oct . 27, 1894 . 
Adele Dear, — 

Your letter of the 23d inst. rec’d, and have 
delayed replying until to-night. I did write 
that I had been imbittered — forget that I wrote 
it — the allusion was ill-timed, especially now 


A Romance in Meditation. 47 

that you have become a hope to me. I can 
safely say to you that for nine years past not 
one of all the women I have known could in- 
fluence me in the slightest degree toward a 
thought of marriage, save yourself. 

Let me down easy when you do, and save the 
splintering of wrecked hopes. 

Your lines are honest and fair, and I esteem 
you the more for them — truly why should you 
encourage me, or why permit yourself to care 
for “ the Unknown/' 

Adieu, Adele; think of me at times, and 
realize your power to change me or let me drift 
away. Good-night. 

JEAN. 

Form No. 501.: 

Baton Rouge, Da. 

To Miss Adele Andre, 

Garvin Terrace. 

A sudden resolve brings me north — expect 
me on the 17th. 


48 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION XIV, 

He comes! The conquering hero comes! 
He doesn’t say whether he comes alone or with 
his friend. Is it business that has hastened his 
resolve, or is it purely to see “ Miss Badness ” ? 

I’ll fall so far short of his expectations that 
’twill be like a sudden frost to him. They 
have led him to expect too much — I fear he 
will be disappointed — so much for having ad- 
miring friends. His friend, Richard, only 
added fuel to the flame, although I told him to 
disillusion Jean, 

“ Let me down easy, and save the splinter- 
ing of wrecked hopes.” 

Ah, Jean, you certainly have the prettiest 
way of expressing your sentiments. “ Hope, 
which springs eternal in the human breast ” — 
what a strange quality it is — it survives all 
the storms of life, and when you think it con- 
sumed by conflicting passions, it rises from the 


A Romance in Meditation. 49 

ashes of dead desires and burns anew, fed from 
some hidden source. 

Is not the fountain-head Faith? 

If that be killed, methinks Hope would rest 
in the same grave. 

Sunday Night, 'Nov. \ 2 , 1894. 
My Dear Adele, — 

Last night, while all were assembled in the 
sitting-room (Richard included) I lay back 
in perfect comfort and gazed at a happy group. 
While they all talked, my thoughts were far, 
far away, resting on you, as I gave myself up 
to recollection of the few short hours we spent 
together — they, at least, are mine to remember, 
even though I am living in the shadow of 
doubt. 

I shall never forget the last evening I spent 
with you — the sad, sweet face — and I read the 
heart that beat beneath — outwardly cold, but 
capable of oh, such deep affection. 

Should you ever be mine, I must take you 
out of the cloud of care and reserve which 
shadows you and give such tenderness and love 
that will render you happy and banish the 
sorrow that shrouds you. 

4 


50 A Romance in Meditation. 

Well, I left you, but I carry your image 
with me, and, even as I walked away, I saw 
your face still at the door until the shadows 
shut me out. I will love you if you'll let me — 
only you must learn to love me in return — then 
I will make you happy. 

'Tis late — very — adieu, dear Adele. 

Write to me, 


lYour 


'JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 51 


MEDITATION XV,' 

Jean, Jean, Jean, you are all tenderness. 
You have read me aright, and if you had come 
into my life before I had crusted over, I might 
have been a better and a happier woman; for 
the affection is naturally there. 

It is not for myself that I fear, but for him. 
If I should marry him and then find that icy 
hand clutching over my heart and go back 
into my reserve, it would simply kill him — no, 
I had better stay out of his life — and, yet, how 
he pleads. 

Such perfect manners and address you rarely 
find — he is certainly a rare nature. Even Clare 
remarked upon his elegant manners. A splen- 
did conversationalist, an ardent wooer, he talks 
as well as he writes. 

He plead for a kiss. No, no, Jean, that goes 
only to my husband. Ah, poor fellow, if ever 


52 A Romance in Meditation. 

he comes, what a freshet awaits him. I have 
always withheld it from others — it goes only 
to him whoe’er he may be. 

Baton Rouge, Nov. p, i8p4 . 

This is a cold rainy night — a heavy rain now 
falling — had to send home to-day for my bear 
(i. e.) my heavy black Chinchilla coat. 

Forgive if I am not myself to-night, dear 
Adele, but there are so many things that go 
wrong, and all my hopes seem bruised so that 
at times I feel reckless. Can you understand 
what it is to a man to feel that he is in com- 
munion with the woman who is his ideal, and 
who would be to him the true companion that 
his nature craves — that she is the one woman 
above all others. 

You know me well — you understand me and 
read me thoroughly even when I do not wish 
you to do so. You know my very nature, and 
in the inmost recesses of your heart you are 
in touch and sympathy with me, and there 
needs now but the affinity between our physical 
selves. 

Forgive me, my sweetheart, if I have over- 
stepped the limits; but to-night I have a full 


A Romance in Meditation. 53 

heart (how I could love you), do not censure 
me, but rather cling to me. 

[Yours, 

jean. 

Baton Rouge, Nov. £5, 1894. 
Adele Dear, — 

A cold night — ’twill freeze by morning. 

This letter of Sunday imposes a confidence 
which I am not slow to appreciate, and I think 
you did right to write me as you did. Oh, 
my sweetheart, what could I have written to 
bring tears to your eyes? If a thoughtless 
word caused you pain, then forgive me; or, 
was it only some sentence which touched a 
sympathetic chord? 

Now, as to your Sis. No, I have never 
wondered that she sent no reply to my remem- 
brances, given, as they were, in my rollicking 
off-hand way, though, of course, I expected 
you to tell her. This part of the affair is a 
mere nothing. 

Her jealousy is absurd, and would become 
only the school girl. She fails to recognize 
that one forms intimate friendships as they go 


54 A Romance in Meditation. 

through life. She brings discontent to herself 
and unhappiness to those around her. The 
violence of her prejudice goes a long way when 
she asserts that nothing good can come out of 
Nazareth (i. e.) nothing good can come 
through Beulah Herric; for ’twas through her 
that I became your correspondent, and I be- 
lieve her love and consideration for you would 
have prevented her bringing to you anything 
that was particularly faulty. 

The lady’s contempt of my regards is rather 
amusing. Her enmity would please me all the 
more, and nothing gives me more vigor than 
opposition. Her disapproval would serve to 
whet my wits and show her that I could play 
a bold hand. No, never mention me to her 
again, it’s best not. 

Sweetheart, let me say a word. I am well 
aware that you have a mind of your own ; now 
if ever you should care for me sufficiently to 
marry me, you need have no fear of all your 
family together causing me to shrink from 
claiming you and possessing you. I never 
permitted my own family to thwart me in the 
accomplishment of my purpose, nor should 
yours. When you say the “ yes,” then there 


A Romance in Meditation. 55 


is no living power that could separate us — 
never forget this. 

I entertain a consciousness that I shall not 
justify your sister's ideas, so, farewell to Clare 
Andre. I will never mention her again. 

I will answer your question, my dear girl; 
no, I have never openly professed Christ — wait, 
you know what the sustaining love of a pure 
woman can be to a man. 

Yes, darling, all those long years, I cared 
not whether or no any woman took an interest 
in me, it was a matter of complete indifference 
to me. 

During that time I have led a varied life — at 
times, lived within myself and my books — at 
others . 

How the time is going — already deep into 
the winter, from certain standpoints it seems 
to fly, and, yet again, from others, it fairly 
creeps. What will another six months bring? 
What changes? What meetings? What links 
in the chain to be welded ? What desires to be 
blunted ? What longings to be wrecked ? Ah, 
do you know that to-night I could look on that 
from which I should hope for most and remain 


56 A Romance in Meditation. 

as callous, unmoved, and cold as if the future 
held for me naught? 

Lest I weary you, I bid adieu. 

,Write to me, yours, 


JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 57 


MEDITATION XVI. ^ 

A visit to the Southland — ah, it will be a 
rest — to go into the warmth and sunshine, 
leaving this cold, bleak weather. Could I 
make up my mind to accept love’s sunshine, 
it might soften my whole being. What a 
strange creature I am — to reject or even hesi- 
tate to accept such fondness when it is so often 
offered. 

A ghost of the past! a fleeting shadow, on 
which I must not dwell. What have I to re- 
gret? I made the sacrifice, and she is safe; 
what further concern have I with it ? It is for 
Verone to claim me, now that the barrier is 
removed, but he lingers long away whilst 
others plead. Have I affected too well my 
indifference? Surely he can read beneath 
what others see. 

A house-party in the “ land of roses.” 


58 A Romance in Meditation. 

When Jean finds that I am there, he will join 
us. 

What new scenes await me ? It will be open- 
ing the vista into a strange new life — so differ- 
ent from our northern customs ; but lest antici- 
pation exceed the realization and with it bring 
a disappointment, I’ll bide my time. 

I must begin my preparations. 

Baton Rouge, Dec. io, 1894. 

Adele, — 

So you are at Alma — only think of you in 
our clime. I have accepted Mrs. Stuart’s in- 
vitation and shall join the party in a few days. 
Thanks to her for the pleasure of being with 
you. 

I send you some camellas to-day. 

Hastily yours, 

JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 59 


MEDITATION XVII. 

Creole life is certainly interesting — beauti- 
ful creatures, yet they break so early in life. 
The drive was a picturesque one — the old 
homes with their long porches, lodge-houses 
with wine-cellars beneath, the old portals, and 
high wooden fences overgrown with lichen. 
The live-oaks, with the gray moss pendant 
from every bough, border the bayous, and in 
between grow the palmettoes. 

Truly it was a scene in gray; and the leaden 
cast of the sky and shadowed river added to 
the effect. The old yacht looked as if it had 
not left its moorings for many a day. I am 
promised a sail soon ; wonder whether Fve for- 
gotten how to trim a sail. 

How readily I fall into this leisurely life. 
Time has slipped away while I have been 
drowsying here, and ? tis almost the dinner 
hour. The gentlemen are gathering in the 
drawing-room, and I must hasten my toilet for 
dinner. 


6o A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION XVIII. 

'Tis late — the bayou reflects the moon — a 
glorious night — but I must seek sleep. 

In the morning Jean arrives and the party 
will be the livelier for his bright sallies. They 
are all pleasant, yes, very, but, ah, me — the 
tints are all gray. 

As the horses sped along the road, I felt in- 
clined to loosen the rein and turn into some 
by-path to let them browse, while I mused on. 
The rest of the party couldn't understand my 
eagerness to drive. How helpless the women 
down here seem, how sheltered their lives. 

Why I don't suppose they would let me drift 
off to indulge in a mood. But Jean will claim 
most of my time during his short stay. The 
gentlemen drive to meet him, and we will wel- 
come him from the gallery. Conventionalities. 
At home I should drive to meet him. 


A Romance in Meditation. 61 

I must be up in time to gather the roses and 
violets, lest a blighting frost come. Think of 
roses blooming out of doors in December. 
Adieu, Jean, until to-morrow. 


62 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION XIX. 

Impetuous fellow! Why does he not 
“ bide a wee ” ? but he has too much South- 
ern ardor for that. 

Alas, and alack-a-day! His mother invites 
me to visit her — what shall I say ? The beauti- 
ful boy almost wins my heart. A sacred trust, 
to rear so fine a child. 

Loving arms stretched out to me — an open 
door — but ah, that icy clutch. What comes 
over me ? 

The river seems sluggish. I hope a breeze 
will spring up, as I’ve promised to go for a 
sail with Ronald Hughes after luncheon. 


A Romance in Meditation. 63 


MEDITATION XX. 

He calls me cold, cruel — probably half jest- 
ingly — I believe half earnestly. 

Think you, Jean Neville, that I have never 
felt the need of a kindred spirit, where there 
was a mutual understanding and appreciation 
— a sympathizer — a protector? Woman by 
nature leans — yet by some I’m regarded as all 
sufficient. “ The laughing rejoinders are often 
but thorns around the quicksands of her true, 
inner feelings — screens as it were.” I fear I 
laugh at the world now, not with it. 

Ah, Jean, I’m a queer institution, an enigma 
truly to you — you say. The man I love must 
in a sense be my master — mind you, though, a 
kind one — he must let me have rein to dance 
and prance a bit — never apply the whip. He 
must not let me pasture in a wilderness; I 
must bear his coat of arms; yet I’m as easily 


64 A Romance in Meditation. 

handled as a high-spirited horse — let me alone 
and I'll come and put my nose into the palm 
of your hand — but a touch of the lash and I'm 
off to new fields. 

No, no, Jean, I’m not cold-hearted — if I 
thought I had wounded one I loved, I would 
throw my arms around him and ask forgive- 
ness — I’m simply crusted over. 

Here I’ve sat musing until the sun is almost 
down — by rapid walking I’ll get back in time 
for a toilet for dinner. 

Jean leaves in the morning. 

Baton Rouge, Dec. 26 , 1894 . 
Miss Blue Eyes — Sweetheart, — 

Home late again, and having placed your 
picture in front of me so that I can look into 
your sweet face and love it — will talk to you a 
few. 

They have all deserted me and here I sit in 
my accustomed place where I have written you 
so many lines — the black cat is cuddled on my 
overcoat. Your letter is before me — read for 
the twentieth time, I suppose — it bears my 
marks on the various sentences, and everything 


A Romance in Meditation. 65 

hinges on one particular sentence — “ If I can 
take what you have offered.” Should you not, 
it will be kept within myself ; I do not care to 
give it elsewhere. 

Saw Richard Armstrong this afternoon — 
he inquired for you. Mother just came in — 
said, “ Remember me kindly to Miss Adele.” 
We were all talking of you to-night. 

“ When lip no longer speaks to lip in the 
wordless eloquence of the kiss — then love is 
gone ” — wait. Should mine ever cling to 
yours in one long impassioned kiss — love will 
have commenced its perfection between us. 

Should you ever give your heart to me, how 
I could love you; and with my lips sealed to 
yours, have us both forget we were of this 
earth — well, well, some day. 

Later — half hour — 

Just went in to see my boy, asleep in bed — 
his side face turned white and rosy, with his 
blond hair hanging lightly on his temples — a 
handsome boy. Forgive me this — but then you 
know I love my boy, and even he talks of you 
and says he will love you. I wonder if he shall 
— it will rest with you. 

Good-by, only wanted to say a few words to 

5 


66 A Romance in Meditation. 

you — I sleep better and feel like a different 
man after writing to you. 

I hope you are well. 

[Yours, 

[JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 67 


MEDITATION XXI. 

What a sensitive fellow! — yet I was right 
to tell him what I did. I do believe in a long 
friendship, a good understanding of each other, 
and if the friendship results happily — a short 
engagement, for many reasons. He said he 
would not give me long to remain with his 
mother-in-law. 

Caresses ? — I should not want the woman I 
married to have kissed other men — no, no, 
Jean, they are for my husband, whoe’er he be 
— I’ll shock him. 

A panorama presents itself — 

My rivals — 

Scene I. — Black cat cuddled on my overcoat:. 
Scene II. — Faces of sweethearts, married and 
unmarried. 

Scene III. — Clubs, champagne. 

The scene shifts — 

I might out-cuddle the cat. The sweet- 


68 A Romance in Meditation. 


hearts might be generous enough to withdraw 
for poor Blue-eyes. Could she ever gain the 
vantage ground from the third rival ? 

Clubs are all right, but not when hearts 
are trumps. 


Baton Rouge, Dec . 1894. 

Sunday night . 

Ah, Adele, — 

This morning, I breakfasted at 9.30 and feel- 
ing in the best of health and spirits, concluded 
to go into town. Went first to the post and 
received your letter, which has been carefully 
read, I assure you — have made some marginal 
notes on it and shall file it away to keep. 

My darling, you jest with me — my letters 
are far from captivating, I likewise. ’Tis 
you that hold me in bondage and have made 
me love you blindly. 

This afternoon, I took my little companion 
for a walk — we enjoyed the stroll greatly — 
returned just at dark. Since tea, we have all 
talked till, one by one, they have gone to their 
rooms and left me alone with my thoughts. 

Am very glad to know that you are better, 
hope jou will keep well. Ah, had I been with 


A Romance in Meditation. 69 

you, would I not have smoothed your brow 
and fastened kisses on it, till they strayed to 
your lips, there to linger in the long, impas- 
sioned ones. 

Now to your letter — 

I agree with you in every idea you have ex- 
pressed — hence comments are unnecessary. I 
admire your expressions and respect your views 
— as such would I have my wife. 

I have looked to you as the one — only — 
whose character suited me and came within 
my ideas of a life’s companion. But you also 
know (or should) that there is a certain pride 
which will induce a man to silence the ex- 
pression of his affection when he is persuaded 
that certain rejection of his suit stares him in 
the face. 

Never to fall within the shadow of the least 
encouragement is chilling and puts the seal on 
lips which have never been closed through tim- 
idity. 

Yet I live now in you — for you — you are my 
rock, my hope. 

Adieu, Adele — 


JEAN. 


70 A Romance in Meditation. 

Baton Rouge, La., Dec . 50, 1894 . 
Blue-Eyes — Howd’ye, — 

Just handed my Robin Hood tickets to an- 
other of the set (so as not to spoil the party 
for to-night), so that I could remain at home 
and spend the evening with you — have had a 
surfeit of entertainment this week, and anyhow, 
am much better employed in company with my 
. . . . friend. 

Mother and I have just finished arranging 
a bill of fare, as I expect to have some of my 
bachelor friends to dine with me on New 
Year’s — this will be a three hours’ sit. If you 
were only here, how much more delightful it 
would be. 

Resumed two hours later — 

Well, I’m tempted to sailor. Company an- 
nounced when I left off — confound it, have lost 
all this time, and knocked my ideas all out. 

Do you know that here at home they look 
upon you as the future Mrs. N. ? How the 
chickens crow everywhere around to-night — 
still, Adele, I am lonely, lonely, and am tempted 
to curse the fate which separates me from the 
woman I would love. No, no, no, I shall not 


A Romance in Meditation. 7 1 

write you as I feel — oh, if only you loved me, 
then would I give you all the pent-up affection 
of years and you should have all the strong 
love of a man who has withheld all affection 
from any woman for a decade past. I have 
for so long a time experienced nothing but in- 
difference, that it has become a part of me — 
to turn loose the feeling that lies chained with- 
in me would be like a fountain running over 
and, like a woman, tears would be a relief. 
My God, am I fool? but words cannot tell 
you what I mean — only never make me love 
you unless you can love me in return. 

Adele, do not judge me harshly — my heart 
is stormy to-night. Sweetheart, sweetheart, 
how if you loved me, I would say, “ Oh, my 
darling, put your arms about me and hush me 
still — for as said the Arab of old, ‘ My tongue 
must lie a prisoner ’twixt its ivory walls and 
be silent/ ” 

Dec . 31. 

The old year is nearly gone — now 11 p.m., 
and here I sit, still writing to a girl — who — I 
pause — well, I have never before done this, sat 
writing ’twixt the hinges of time and to a real 
sweetheart. 


72 ' A Romance in Meditation. 

So good-by, ’94 — and bury with you some 
hopes that had existed — now they are gone — 
for well do I know that I shall never be to 
you what in the inner cells of your heart you 
would wish the man to be whom you might 
love. I know by intuition that I shall not be 
he — hence with the fleeting year I bid adieu 
to my aspirations. 

[Yours, 

JEAN. 


A Romance in Meditation. 73 


MEDITATION XXII. 

What a contrast from that easy, leisurely 
life to this bustle of my northern home. Back 
to the busy scenes ! 

Ah, I heave a sigh — how nice to get one's 
belongings all put away — have finished all ex- 
cept this wardrobe shelf. Here's Jean's last 
letter — oh, he must not write so. “ You are 
my rock and my hope." I cannot encourage 
him. Am I cruel? Is this very practical? 
It's very honest. 

He embodies what a woman should seek in 
a husband— superior in all in which a man 
should be superior to a woman, — alive to the 
little tendernesses (the nameless things a 
woman's nature craves) — a man to appreciate 
a woman as confidant and adviser. 

Who would hold the reins? Would not his 
wife's hands be in his ? , C 

Oh, Jean, Jean, you deserve a rich love, but 
there stirs not a pulse-beat in me. It is an 


74 A Romance in Meditation. 

impossibility, mental and physical. The self 
that could have loved is dead. 

If he would only be my friend — I need him, 
I need him; and yet he will suffer more as it 
goes on, so I suppose I must give him up. If 
ever he needs my help, I am his to command — 
but ’twere better that we no longer write. 

Farewell to one of the truest, noblest friend- 
ships that I have ever enjoyed. 

Baton Rouge, Jan . <?, 1895 . 

Adele, — 

Have been quite busy to-day, catching up — 
had a week’s writing to do at my office. It is 
very cold here and we have to have big fires — 
but it is clear. 

Have read yours of Friday carefully and 
penciled comments on the margin. Now I 
will take up your letter, sentence at a time, — 

“ Something I said that worried you and you 
would grieve to hurt me ” — it’s all right, my 
dear friend, you don’t wound me, because I 
had prepared myself to know that I had failed. 
You have not written what I asked you to write 
— this is of course as gently as you could say 
it — don’t come again, Jean, it’s of no use. 


A Romance in Meditation. 75 

One other thing you refused me, you shrank 
from me — yet God knows I would have treated 
you tenderly, gently, kindly. 

Again I take up your letter — I confess that 
I am not morally your equal — you, Adele, are 
of the chosen — a pure, good, noble woman — 
and as such you could command my affection 
and loyalty, but it is not for me. The infer- 
ence from your remark is that you decline it 
and leave it for some unknown; but I shall 
keep it, for to-day my heart has seemed frozen 
up, and I shall lapse into the old callous indif- 
ference and all women shall be alike to me. 

I regret now that I wrote you as I did last 
night — however, I wrote you from the heart, 
for you could have held me — I know no one 
else can. Destroy the letter and imagine you 
never received it. 

I am very tired, dear Adele, and as there is 
nothing more I need say to you — I bid you 
good-night. 

May God bless and keep you. 

Farewell to my hopes, my aspirations. Fare- 
well to my life, my love. 

Your friend, 

JEAN. 


76 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION XXIII. 

A letter from Richard Armstrong, Jean’s 
bosom friend. Jean dead! A fatal case of 
pneumonia — he was not robust at best, and 
that was his second attack. I hope he did not 
suffer long ; he was so tender of others. 

Ah, Richard, you are not the only one be- 
reft — a friendly light has been extinguished 
along my path. “ Tell her I die loving her.” 
Ah, Jean, noble in death as in life. If I 
wounded you, forgive me, I could not help it. 
I had nothing to give; you came into my life 
too late. 

The loss of his beautiful boy must have 
hastened his death — his little companion, wait- 
ing to welcome him. 

I must write a note to his dear mother. 

Peace to thy soul — a blessed awakening in 
the Better Land. 


A Romance in Meditation. 77 


SEQUEL 

“ To die for lack of love is horrible — the 
asphyxia of the soul.” 

MEDITATION I. 

’Tis strange that I have not come in contact 
with Verone in all this time, and then to 
transfer from car to car — almost in his arms. 
How many times we have ridden in those cars 
together — he looked very natural, and I think 
I clung to his coat-sleeve a little bit as we 
walked along. 

Six months since Jean passed away and the 
summer has brought Richard Armstrong north 
for his vacation. I was amazed to find him 
at the house when I returned from my jaunt. 

So Richard loved me while Jean was alive, 
but, too honorable to enter the list against his 
friend, he remained silent. Yes, he was loyal 
to Jean. When he accompanied me any place, 


78 A Romance in Meditation. 

’twas always, “ Good-night, Miss Adele, may 
God bless you.” I was blind to his silent suf- 
fering, and yet there was always that wistful 
look in the eyes that accompanied the hand- 
shake. He said so many things in his rollick- 
ing, off-hand way, that I was wholly misled. 

A fruitless mission, I fear, Richard ! 
Though your hair is slightly tinged with gray, 
you could never be more to me than a rollick- 
ing companion, a dear chum — never the man of 
my heart. 

I'll take him out to see Addice R. ; she’s a 
dear girl, and he would certainly prove an af- 
fectionate husband to one whom he loved. 

He has outlived his early disappointment — 
a sad story. 


A Romance in Meditation. 79 


MEDITATION II. 

What a heterogeneous mass of humanity a£ 
the Springs — what trapperies — what gaudy 
display of diamonds — yet it helped to take me 
out of myself, to watch the daily play upon the 
stage. 

How beautiful the trysting lane, by moon- 
light! There hearts have beat high with 
fervent expectation, some hopes have ripened 
into full fruition, others have stirred, fluttered 
gently, madly even, and then fallen into the 
dead calm of indifference. 

My summer companion is doubtless reveling 
in the flesh-pots of Hardin Co. Before he 
was introduced to me, some one had told him 
of Verone; yet despite the fact, he was 
tempted to try his fate. I could not barter 
myself for gold — gold made at the expense of 
the souls of men and the broken hearts of hun- 
dreds of noble women — no, no, not though the 
handsomest home in R were to be mine. 


80 A Romance in Meditation. 

A handsome man, of noble instincts and 
tender nature — ’tis a pity he enlisted on that 
ship. He saw my antipathy for the beverage ; 
yet ’twas best to be candid. 

How artistic the garland of poppies he 
twined for me! The cottage around which 
they grew, with its several rustic inmates, made 
a picture of true, rural contentment. 

Adele Andre, you are a strange creature, to 
cling to old images — yet — I would rather be 
a housekeeper in the humble home of my king, 
than to wield the scepter in a gilded palace 
where love reigned not. 

He will marry some one else soon, for he 
wants a companion, a wife, a mistress for his 
beautiful home. 

Exit. 


Harold Mortimer 


A Romance in Meditation. 81 


MEDITATION III. 

A representative gathering at the Federa- 
tion — handsome men and beautiful women, 
and among them all, none more distinguished 
than Verone. Kentucky certainly held her 
own. 

How natural it seemed to be with him, to 
have him thread the way through the crowd. 
Wonder when I’ll see him again. My mind 
has dwelt constantly upon him to-day, we have 
seemed to be in communion, and if there is 
aught in the transmission of thought, he cer- 
tainly has been thinking of me. 

“ I knew when night had gently wrapped 
In sleep the tired and drowsy day, 

I’d see you, for my thoughts full-capped 
Were charged to fetch you from the way. 

And though you lingered, lingered long, 

I knew you could not fail me, dear ; 

My throbbing heart beat but this song — 

He comes, he comes, so near, he’s here. 


6 


82 A Romance in Meditation, 


And when I saw you — one great cry 
Of joy and then a quiet fell ; 

For who would talk or even try 
When silence answers just as well ? 

And thus we read what each would say, 
No space too wide for thoughts to reach 
The eyes, the lips, the soul hath sway 
Beyond all power of human speech.” 


I knew he would come to-night — if I could 
have put my head down on his breast and 
sobbed it all out, I should have been perfectly 
happy, but alas, for conventionalities — they 
were around. At times, I felt I could not talk 
— ’twas a sacrilege almost. 

Never mind — I’ll tell him when next we’re 
alone. 


A Romance in Meditation. 83 


MEDITATION IV. 

Ah, to spin along the road with Broec, Vere 
beside me again — this is Heaven indeed. 

The past seems sometimes like a horrible 
nightmare from which I’ve awakened. Ugh! 
I shudder. 

Ah, how dear he is to me, dearer than ever, 
and when he puts his strong arm around me, 
my head goes straight to his breast and nestles 
there, as it did of old. Those last years of 
pain are a parenthesis, as it were, in my life — 
a hushed passage from which the succeeding 
years should rise in an exultant strain. Won- 
der whether there will be any more minor 
cadence. 

How beautiful the lanes were, with the 
towering hills on either side. While we left 
Broec to graze, and climbed to the top of Beech 
Hill, all the old love seemed to mount, until, 
with hands clasped, we rested in the old heaven 
of content that we find in each other’s eyes.: 


84 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION V. 

MOONLIGHT FROM FOREST KNOB. 

How peaceful the scene below in contrast 
to the light of the garish day. Ever beautiful 
to the lover of nature, the softened moonlight 
lends an added charm to the many nooks we 
pass. Dreamily elusive, we think we have 
imaged the scene, when the moonlight shifts 
and it is replaced by another picture, equally 
as entrancing if differently peopled. 

Broec moves lazily along (he has been 
trained to this pace, when we’re reveling in 
the beauties of nature). Peering through the 
woodland aisles, we come upon a moonlight 
revel of the sprites, when a leafy curtain drops 
to hide the vision from our too ardent gaze. 

A peaceful hush below ! A benediction 
seems resting upon the city in the distance, 
its inmates equally benefited whether deserv- 
ing or no. 


A Romance in Meditation. 85 

The miles of boulevard between lie wrapped 
in shifting shadows, from whose cover come 
the tuneful songs of the “ katy-dids and 
didn’ts ” — their concert-hall lighted by in- 
numerable fire-flies. 

An impatient whinny reminds us that the 
third party is growing weary, and that, hand 
in hand, we have sat long, wrapped in the spell 
which the artist has woven round us. We 
catalogue the scene on Memory’s walls as a 
“ Moonlight Revel ” and gather up the reins 
to speed back to the city. 


86 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION VI. 

“ Certain thoughts are prayers. There are 
moments when, whatever the attitude of the 
body, the soul is on its knees.” 

Oh ! what am I to believe ? 

Torn by conflicting thoughts, pursued by 
doubts, confronted by unequivocal statements 
of his baseness, robbed of my sleep, I fain 
would die. 

Is he guilty as charged by them? Those 
men were unmindful of my presence, uncon- 
scious of my identity. That he should be 
guilty of such an entanglement ! If so, he has 
insulted every feeling dear to a woman; he 
has verified every prediction my family ever 
made of him. 

Great God ! let it not be so. Speak peace to 
my anguished soul — tell me it is not so. 

A man of unquestionable honor — a man 
who vowed he would do no wrong ! 


A Romance in Meditation. 87 

Knowing full well his impassioned nature, 
I have deemed him so noble, so true, so strong, 
so grand a man, that, seeing a weakness in a 
woman, he would rise in the strength of his 
manhood to protect her against themselves. 
While I had not supposed him immaculate, I 
had thought him too noble to wrong one under 
the protection of his own roof. So implicit 
was my confidence in him, that, had I been 
cast alone with him on some desert island, I 
could have lain down to sleep with the sweet 
assurance that my womanhood was sacredly 
guarded — and would not others be safe too ? 

Who could have sent me those letters? I 
will never condemn him on hearsay. I’ll see 
for myself — if necessary, ask him. 

Mayhap this accounts for his strange silence 
on some things — and now that I think of it, 
his eyes have not met mine as directly, as 
fully as was their wont formerly. 

Sleep gone ! ’tis well nigh morning. ( 


88 A Romance in Meditation. 


MEDITATION VII. 

THE MISSING CHAPTER. 

“ Love has its childlikenesses, the other pas- 
sions have their littlenesses. Shame on the 
passions which render man little! Honor to 
that which makes him a child.” 


PUBLISHER’S NOTE.'v. 

The manuscript was found complete, save 
for this missing chapter. The author had evi- 
dently found unmistakable evidence of the 
truth of the charges intimated in the fore- 
going. Overcome by the destruction of her 
ideal, and unwilling to efface it by penning a 
less noble image, she shut her secret within 
herself, her hand refused to write, her pen 
trailed on in an indistinguishable line. 

Lof C. 


A Romance in Meditation. 89 


MEDITATION VIII. 

After much red-tape performance, my ap- 
plication has been received and approved and 
I am privileged to try my skill as a nurse — 
thanks to Dr. Anita McGee. 

Sorrow's best cure is employment — employ- 
ment in scenes far removed from the past, from 
the source of that sorrow. Hospital scenes are 
not conducive to much merriment, but in the 
changed environment and busy life, there will 
be little time for repining. 

Though a woman and not privileged to rush 
into battle for the cause of the suffering Cuban, 
nor to shed my life's blood to rescue a fallen 
comrade, nor to win laurels by some daring ex- 
ploit, I may, in an humble way, be able to al- 
leviate some one's suffering. 

My friends wonder at my giving up all to 
enter the service — 'tis not a sacrifice on my 
part, rather a cowardly selfishness, I fear. The 


90 A Romance in Meditation. 

greatest sacrifice possible to me I made long 
ago, when I sent Verone from me — all else 
is as naught. It requires less courage to face 
the fire of the cannon under pressure of excite- 
ment, or to run into the miasmatic atmos- 
phere of disease, than it does to live under the 
daily fire of the unfriendly, curious, ferreting 
gaze and nagging tongue of those with whom 
you come in contact, those whom you have 
offended because, for love's sake, you ran 
counter to their wills — living and struggling 
with a dead faith, trust and hope. 

Wonder where I shall be assigned? — I go 
first to Pensacola. 


A Romance in Meditation. 91 


MEDITATION IX. 

For many weeks the spirit of the foregoing 
meditations ministered to the sick and 
wounded, assuaging their pain, mitigating 
their sorrow, writing messages for the disabled 
to their loved ones. The long vigils began at 
last to tell, and a buoyant nature and a system, 
naturally vigorous, but undermined by re- 
pressed sorrow, at last yielded to the intense 
strain. 

One by one, the chords had snapped, yet 
so stealthily that the casual observer was de- 
ceived by the animated manner and ready 
smile. By an affected cheerfulness and ap- 
parent interest in things, she had foiled any 
attempts at sympathy at home. Little did they 
dream that, before she left, Adele Andre was 
dying of a broken heart. 

Beloved by those to whom she had given 
skilful attention, respected by fellow-nurses 


92 A Romance in Meditation. 

and physicians in charge, a general sorrow 
was felt when the fever yielded to none of 
the treatment. The attendants could not under- 
stand why a system so vigorous could not 
combat the fever — all remedies failed, for a 
deadlier fever had for months been preying 
on more vital organs. 

In her delirium, her constant cry was Vere, 
Vere, Vere, and in a moment of conscious- 
ness, calling for a pen, she wrote — 



A Romance in Meditation. 93 


MEDITATION X. 

K man of more than middle life sits silently 
at his desk. His brow wears a studied air ; is 
it the press of official duties? No, for to-day he 
has been rather free from interruption and 
has given rein to thought. 

A closer examination shows a face of much 
strength; a motive temperament; a prominent 
nose, indicating an indomitable will; a mouth 
refined, sensitive, sympathetic, yet firm; eyes 
appreciative of humor, yet hard when off 
guard; a full brow receding, indicative of a 
cowardice which for the sake of “ making 
things easier ” and preventing personal annoy- 
ance would let the suffering rest upon you, if 
you would bear it without an outcry, rather 
than place the responsibility where it belonged ; 
a mass of clinging, chestnut curls surmounts a 
head not too well-defined for domestic pro- 
pensities. 


94 A Romance in Meditation. 

The labor of the past two years speaks for 
many improvements established, many reforms 
instituted, much good accomplished for the 
benefit of the public; yet why that shadow 
upon the face? Are not the plaudits of the 
world satisfying? 

If accosted, a cavalier manner and a smile 
generally replace the set expression and dis- 
arm one; but to-day, as he sits alone, the 
shadow has deepened. On his desk, lies a 
laconic letter — 



accompanied by the following notice — 


AT REST. 


ADELE ANDRE, Sept. 25 , 1898. 

A broken heart and a dead faith cry up to 
him — his hands fall heavily on his desk — he 
bows his head — it is too late for reparation. 


THE END. 




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